FunnyWeird
by vodka straight
Summary: Michael's life is not funny-haha. Brian takes Michael back to the loft after he falls apart outside of Ben's hospital room in episode 218. Michael's POV.


**Title: Funny-Weird**

**Setting: Directly after the scene in episode 218 where Brian meets Michael outside Ben's hospital room.Michael's POV.**

**Couple: Ben/Michael, obviously, and there's a bit of Brian/Justin, I suppose. There is no focal couple. **

**AN: Plot has been totally screwed with by me, I've made it a lot angstier (if you can imagine) and a lot darker. If you don't get the title, I don't blame you; I suck at titles. It's supposed to refer to the phrase, "Funny-weird, not funny-haha."**

* * *

After I calm down, I can tell Brian wants to go somewhere. He's quiet and fidgety. He doesn't want to leave me here; he wants the two of us to leave. He doesn't say that because he's not stupid.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asks instead, and although there is coffee down the hall in the visitors area, it makes sense. It makes sense to me that he would want to speak in code. But I really wish he wouldn't. I shake my head and rub my eyes again and feel more and more like a little kid.

I glance over and he's put forth all his will, all his beautiful, powerful dignity to kind of half hold out this decorative, expensive silk handkerchief that had been fashionably tucked inside his breast pocket. I give a watery laugh and wave it off.

"You want to defile art with my snot?" I sigh, and I can tell I've given him a serious break, because he smiles slightly and laughs under his breath to help establish the new mood.

Silence drops again. I lean my head against the wall and try to forget that it has more than one side. Brian drapes an arm around my shoulders and kisses me on the temple.

"How exactly is a person strong?" I ask quietly.

"By not running off." he answers immediately.

I laugh before I can stop myself and shake my head. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"That's not… the same thing as… never mind. You should go back to your meeting."

"The meeting was rescheduled."

"Oh." I'm not sure what to say now, but I like that he didn't lie to me to get himself off of the hook. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Silence. "Is he asleep?"

I remember struggling with the cunty nurse over his passed-out body. "Yeah."

"Good. Come back to the loft with me." Brian says as he stands up slowly, and it's different than asking if I want to go get coffee with him. He slaps his hand down softly and decisively on my thigh as he stands. "Let's go get high."

We do. We smoke three fat joints between the two of us in the space of forty minutes, and I can feel my heart beating like hot panic in my chest. I ask Brian for the third time if he loves me. Once per joint.

"Yes. I love you Mikey. More than anyone."

Brian is an expert at being high, but he's still telling me he loves me more than anyone.

"More than Justin?"

"More than Justin."

"Really?"

He laughs through his teeth and falls over forward so his head is between his knees, laughing that airy, wild laugh that you can't control.

"Yes."

I don't know what he's answering yes too, but he is beautiful.

"Do you love Ben?"

He's so high he forgets. And suddenly I'm crying again. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey Mikey…" he murmurs in my general direction and smothers me with his body, hugging me and rolling on top of me and even though I'm crying for Ben, I'm crying for me, too, and I want him in me. And I want him wet and slick all over me. It's been so long.

The heavy door is pushed open and Justin's slim figure slides into the room. He sees us and reacts suddenly.

"Should I go?"

Before I can respond, or even catch my breath, Brian shakes his head.

"Stay. Smoke with us."

Justin takes in the scene from where he's standing: I'm half-lying down, tears streaking down my face, and Brian is half-lying on top of me, probably pale and out-of-it enough to be a vampire.

"I think you've had enough." Justin says, and I just want to kill him. I just hate him with every part of me. How does he know? How does he even know what's happening in us? Our chemistry is our own; our blood is ours to measure.

"Never enough." Brian breathes. And I realize that Brian is smiling now. He's smiling up at Justin with a warm face that's ready for hard, confusing sex. He's forgotten again. I know it's just the pot, but it's not _just_ the pot, because I'm still here, and his torso is still leaned against my back, and I've still got tears on my face and on my shirt and in my eyes.

"Come here." Brian says alluringly, and I almost say, _I am here_. But instead Justin gives him a reproachful smile with the corner of his mouth, and I feel so hot red with embarrassment that I just want to run.

"Shut up Brian." Justin says lightly, and then he comes down and sits on the floor next to me, and he actually reaches out and takes one of my hands. I can barely feel it I'm so high, I just see it happen and feel lost.

"Is Ben alright?"

"They don't know." I say. The choked up feeling returns and I feel terrible and comic. I also feel bad that I am here, smoking pot. We've been here for over an hour. He might have woken up. He might be wondering about where the fuck I got off to.

"Did you get to talk to him?"

"Yeah."

Justin reaches up like a mother and pushes the hair out of my eyes. He takes his thumb and rubs the damp off my cheeks.

"How's he feeling."

"Scared."

"Reasonable. But you know he'll be alright."

"I don't know. The doctors who are supposed to know don't know."

Justin's small, pale hands smooth down my hair until one of them slides down the back of my neck and cups my head. "He'll be alright."

"How do you know."

"I just know."

I'm weeping again. "Okay."

Justin puts an arm around my shoulders and before I know it he's standing me up. He walks me to Brian's bed and lays me down and covers me up. He doesn't stay after that. He stands and walks back to Brian, who is still on the floor.

"Take care of him. And don't give him any more fucking weed, Brian. I'll go sleep at my mom's."

"Oh. But we were having such a good time." He says flatly, then he grabs Justin's ass with a serious lack of coordination. Justin half-heartedly slaps his hand away, but he's smiling slightly and he leans down and kisses him on the lips. He comes up fake coughing.

"I think I'm baked." he says, and Brian gives him the finger and pulls him down to kiss again. At some point after the beginning and before the end of this second kiss, I loose consciousness.

I dream that I don't hate anyone.

Brian apologizes profusely in the morning. Which is odd, but strangely appropriate.

"I don't think I've smoked that much since I was in college." He's laughing when he says this part, which seems natural.

"I don't remember much."

"Good."

I can laugh, I realize.

"I had a fucked up dream."

"Did you now? That's less than shocking."

"I dreamed that the whole world of people were rolled up into a big ball, stuck together with--"

"Cum." Brian finished my sentence for me.

"Yeah! Seriously, that was the dream. We were all stuck together because everybody was so happy to be together that they jizzed all over each other."

"You were totally stoned."

This seems like a more than legitimate excuse, until he puts a hand on my shoulder and looks me in the eye with eyes still blood shot.

"Plus, in your dream orgy, I guess everybody's juice was pure as a mountain stream, right? About as healthy as bottled water."

He says it quietly, and the sentence is so absurdly true that it shocks me. I didn't even think about it.

"I guess." I murmur. "I've… Ha. I've _really_ got to get to the hospital."

_fin_


End file.
